Rescued, Under Artifical Nights
by hallowgirlfrommars
Summary: "He'll probably never see him again, that weird kid with the weird name and the trenchcoat. That's the sort of story some people probably tell at their weddings or something-how they got rescued in a bus shelter under the artificial night and started talking on the bus and their rescuer got distracted by their big blue eyes. Or something." Destiel.


**So, this was kind of inspired by something I saw in a bus station the other night. And I came up with this little Destiel fic, because I have a mind that runs on all things Destiel. Hope you enjoy!**

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Dean Winchester freaking hates bus shelters at night. He'd never tell anyone that but they freak him out to all hell. You don't know who's lurking there and he's heard enough stories about what's happened to kids in there, to always be the one who insists on picking Sammy up from anywhere. And they always look weird at night, with those lights that are somehow too bright and too dull at the same time-like an artificial night or something, which Dean would die before saying out loud to anyone.

Of course, he'd never tell anyone this which is why he finds himself being the one walking into a bus shelter at nearly half nine on a fall night to find some kid in a trench coat being surrounded by a bunch of kids giving him hassle.

Dean stands still for a second, sees if the kid can handle it himself-because some kids can surprise you, which he knows only too well. Sammy looks innocent enough but if you screw up in front of him-picking on little kids is generally the way to do it-Dean's seen the look in his eyes change quicker than the Impala shifting gears. So he waits, because there's no freaking _way _he's getting into a fight if there's no point, if only because he doesn't need another lecture about it.

One of the kids shoves Trench Coat Kid in the shoulder and Dean rolls his eyes. "Do I get to try it on?" laughs the kid and he's the worst type, the type where you don't know if he's being mean or trying to be nice. Dean knows, but he bets Trench Coat Kid doesn't.

In fact, Trench Coat Kid's staring with his head tilted to the side and these eyes-big, blue eyes, Dean can see them from here-all narrowed, as if he's trying to work out just what the other guy means. And then he says "I prefer to keep it on" in this confused voice as if the other kid might be just making this polite offer, as if there's actually a chance in hell the kid genuinely means it.

And the other kid sniggers. "You prefer to keep it on, huh?" and he tugs at the sleeve.

"Please don't do that" says Trench Coat Boy and there's a hint of panic in his voice now, as well as something else, something that makes Dean step back and wonder if this kid can look after himself after all.

"Why not?" says the kid and he tugs again and OK, whether or not this kid can look after himself or not, Dean's not leaving him.

"Hey" he says and he steps forward. The kid and his two little minions look up, mouths falling open. Dean keeps his eyes on the one who's been speaking with one glance at Trench Coat Kid, who's staring at him with those big puzzled blue eyes, as if Dean's some weird creature he's never seen before.

"What?" says the main kid and perhaps it's the way Dean's stepping towards him but he backs off, with his hands in the air. "I wasn't touching him."

"Keep it that way." Dean keeps his eyes on them and slowly the other kids step back from where they've surrounded Trench Coat Kid on the bench. The kid keeps his eyes on the floor, and Dean turns back to the other three.

"Get out" he says and the main kid steps up to him. "Who's gonna make me?"

Dean shoves his hands into his chest and then, to reinforce the point, grabs the kid by the collar. "Get out" he growls, and the kid chokes and wriggles, an inch of daylight between his shoes and the floor. Trench Coat Kid is staring now, blue eyes wide.

Dean drops the kid. The kid stares for a minute, eyes wide, and then turns, with the other two at his heels.

"Hey" calls Dean. "Wait up."

When the kid turns back, he points at Trench Coat Kid. "Mess with him again and I'll hear about it."

The kid glares at him for a moment then turns and runs, the other two behind him. Dean glares after them and then turns back to Trench Coat Kid.

"Hey, man." He walks over, sits down beside him. Those blue eyes flicker up, then away again. "You OK?"

The boy blinks and then seems to take a sort of mental inventory. "I believe so" he says, that voice slow, careful over the words before he turns to take a look at Dean again. "Thank you" he says and his voice is serious, his eyes staring into Dean's so intently that Dean has to look away, feeling his own cheeks flush scarlet.

"No problem" he says and he has to glance away because seriously, what the hell is up with the staring?

When he looks back, the kid's still at it and more to break the silence than anything else and because it just seems freaking weird to sit there and say nothing, he says "So, what were they doing, anyway?"

The other boy's teeth dig into his lip and he glances down at the trench coat. Dean feels his brow furrow. "Do you know them?"

The other boy shakes his head. "They came and sat around me. They were asking about my coat." He frowns and Dean tips his head to the side at the look of confusion.

"They were taking the piss" he says when the other boy doesn't say any more. "They should have left you alone."

The other boy frowns and clutches at the coat protectively. Dean feels the weird urge to slide his arm around his shoulders, quite probably from the simple fact that the other boy seems to have no idea what to do.

"What's your name?" he says instead, and the other boy slowly raises those eyes back to Dean's.

"Castiel" he says and something about the name in that voice sends a shiver over Dean's skin which he ignores.

"Castiel?" he says, wondering if he's heard right, the name's so weird-though somehow it seems to suit the boy in the trenchcoat.

The boy nods. "Yes." They look at each other for a moment and then he gives a little shake of the head, as if he's forgotten something. "Yours?" he says and headlights move over his face as he speaks, his eyes bright for a moment as he holds out his hand.

"Dean" and Dean takes Castiel's fingers in his. There's a screeching of brakes as the bus pulls to a halt and Dean gets up. "This your bus?"

Castiel nods, and moves ahead of Dean to the bus, stepping on and counting out change rather hurriedly. Dean follows suit and rather than propping himself next to Castiel, slumps in the seat in front, so that the other boy is free to ignore him if he wants.

Castiel stares out the window for a moment but his eyes stray back to Dean's every few moments, and a second later Dean says "Hey, Cas-" and a small smile leaps to the other boy's mouth, those eyes brightening again.

Unfortunately, Dean can't think of anything else to say other than "So...where have you been?"

Cas shrugs and leans back against the seat. "I was in the library, working" he says, and his voice is low. "I just...stayed later than I should have. One of my brothers would usually give me a lift home, but...I wanted to try myself."

Dean feels his lips twitch. "I was just going home" he says, though Cas hasn't asked. "I have to drive my little brother everywhere."

Castiel smiles again, a bigger one this time. "That must be irking" he says and Dean raises an eyebrow at the word.

"Not too bad" he answers honestly-he finds it pretty difficult to genuinely resent Sammy if he's honest with himself.

Castiel smiles and turns to stare out of the window. Dean watches his blue eyes resting on the street, the blue orbs catching the streetlights as they drive. Dean watches and finds his gaze resting on the other boy's lips, which are parted in a little round O, as if unconscious of what he's doing.

"What about you?" he says, wondering if the other boy knows even the most basic rules of general conversation.

Castiel seems to jump a little and then turns back to look at Dean. "My apologies" he says, and Dean's lips twitch again at the phrasing. (God, how does this guy have him _twitching _so much?)

"I have-a lot of brothers" says the other boy, with a small smile. "And a sister." There's a moment of silence, as if he's making up his mind how much to tell Dean, and then he says "They would have been disappointed if they had seen that."

It takes Dean a moment to realise what Cas means. "What, back at the bus stop?"

Castiel nods, with a wince. "They are-" He hesitates. "Keen" he says finally, drawing the word out in his mouth. "For me to stand up for myself." He swallows. "I see their point" he admits softly.

Dean stares at him. "Well, that's bullshit." He doesn't care that half the bus hears that, even as Cas slowly raises his gaze to Dean's, and he knows they must be nearing his stop. "How the hell can they be mad at you? There were three of them and one of you."

Castiel shrugs almost apologetically, as if he's afraid Dean's feelings might be hurt. "I suppose they think it's better for the family if I am able to defend myself." He doesn't sound resentful at all-there's just a slightly sad, resigned note in his voice, as if he's told himself this many times before. Which, Dean reflects, he probably has.

The ceiling of the bus is low and the artificial lights cast all of their faces in a strange pallor but somehow, that doesn't diminish the power of those big blue eyes, as they flicker downwards-but only for a second, before Dean's hand tilts his chin upwards.

"Hey" he says, and his own voice is fierce. "Don't let anyone tell you you're weak."

Castiel's brow creases and Dean swallows. "I mean it. I was just able to take them on like that-" He jerks his head at the window. "Because I'm freaking used to it. But you-" He swallows, trying to imagine this kid taking that lot on. "You just focus on keeping yourself alive."

Castiel looks back at him and this time his chin tilts slightly of its' own accord. "I am capable of keeping myself alive" he says rather tightly. "I was merely being cautious."

Dean's tempted to snort but he senses that wouldn't improve the atmosphere. Instead, he raises his hands. "Buddy, next time, don't be cautious."

Castiel stares at him and his gaze drops as he starts fiddling with something in his jacket. Dean feels his cheeks flush again-_goddmanit-_as it suddenly occurs how the words could be taken. "I didn't mean-" he starts, with the fervent wish for the bus to stop so he can go home and bury his head in his freaking pillow and wonder how the hell he managed to screw this up so badly but Cas is still staring at his lap, scribbling something now, and Dean turns round in his seat to spare them both the embarrassment and wonders who has less survival instinct, himself or this kid.

It seems like God or whoever's listening because the bus is starting to slow down, as it pulls into the side of the road-but at that second, Castiel looks up and the ghost of a grin flickers across his mouth. "I know what you meant" he says rather affably, as he gets to his feet, reaches over and lets a hand fall on Dean's shoulder. Dean tries not to think about how strong each finger feels and how he could lift up his own and just hold it for a second. The fingers press for a second, the tip of one just brushing the skin of Dean's neck, and then the boy moves on.

He stops at the door. "Goodbye, Dean" he says, in that voice. "Thank you for your assistance."

Dean wants to leave this guy he'll probably never see again with a witty and cutting last line, something classically Dean Winchester. But he sees those big blue eyes again and every retort goes out of his head, leaving him to say "No problem" again and raise a hand in farewell.

And then Castiel steps off the bus and the doors close behind him and the bus pulls away. And with a quick wave from the bus stop, Castiel slowly vanishes from sight, still with that old trench coat draped around him.

Dean sinks back in the seat. He'll probably never see him again, that weird kid with the weird name and the trenchcoat. That's the sort of story some people probably tell at their weddings or something-how they got rescued in a bus shelter under the artificial night and started talking on the bus and their rescuer got distracted by their big blue eyes. Or something.

Dean blinks. Holy shit, he just met Cas less than half an hour ago, why the hell's he thinking about weddings? He shakes his head and thanks God his stop's coming up in ten minutes because he doesn't think he can remember a weirder night.

He leans against the window and closes his eyes. He should just forget it. He'll probably never see him again.

He presses his forehead against the glass and something sharp digs into his collarbone. He lifts his hand and tugs at it, yanking it out. It's a piece of paper, wedged under his jacket collar.

He unfolds it and tries to ignore the fact his heart's going way too fast to be healthy.

There's a line of digits scribbled. And a note:

_If you ring this and I answer, you'll know I've managed to successfully keep myself alive.-Castiel. _

Dean stares at the paper. And stares at it some more, this time with a grin breaking over his lips.

He sits back in his seat, folding the paper between his fingers, and tries to ignore the fact that he'll probably call that number the second he gets in.

And he tries to ignore the fact that this isn't the sort of thing he'd ever thought would happen in a billion years and not in a freaking _bus station_ of all places.

And he definitely tries to ignore that thought he had earlier. About this being the type of story people tell at weddings. About how they met.

Because that's just stupid. Obviously. They only just met. Cas has just given him his phone number. He's getting ahead of himself. Obviously. Clearly.

It doesn't stop him grinning the whole way home.

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**Hope you enjoyed that-leave a review! :)**


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